


sanguis

by brokibrodinson



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Vampire AU, Vampire Sex, You heard me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokibrodinson/pseuds/brokibrodinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forced to leave the Vampire Hunters after an unforgivable betrayal, Shay has to make a choice between death and joining the ranks of the very creatures he used to slay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sanguis

**Author's Note:**

> I am both shaytham trash and vampire trash so no one should be surprised by this fic
> 
> Thanks to gingermaya (if you see this) for encouraging this idea ages ago in the comments on one of my other shaytham fics, and also to Bree (again, if you see this) for putting up with my inane questions all the time.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
>  **Edit:** Changed the summary cos the old one was dumb.

Shay didn’t know where he was going, only that he was on the run.

Kicked out of the Hunter Brotherhood for refusing to kill a weakened and defenceless vampire, he had nowhere to go.

He didn’t regret sparing the vampire, but felt the weight of his betrayal keenly all the same. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the look of disappointment on Achilles’ face...

Shay shook his head. He had to stay focused. It wasn’t safe for a lone hunter to wander the streets at night, never mind an _ex_ -hunter.

He was an easy target.

His every sense was heightened, unwilling to be caught unawares by predators lurking in the shadows, though no amount of training could have slowed the rapid beating of his heart.

Since it had been made very clear to Shay that he was no longer welcome at the Davenport Homestead - the base of operations for all hunters in the area – he had instead found himself in New York, where he hoped to find a tavern to stay at.

The streets were dark as he walked silently down the dirt road, wary of every shadow.

At last he caught a glimpse of a cheery tavern sign, and he made for it at once.

Unfortunately he had to cut through a dark alley to reach it, but surely nothing would happen to him so close to his destination?

He was of course, incorrect.

“Out for a late night stroll are we?” a low velvety voice met his ears.

Shay whipped around to see the faint outline of a man leaning casually against a nearby wall. No, not a man. _Vampire_ , his mind hissed as the figure shifted slightly, his eyes glowing faintly as they reflected the light of the tavern at the end of the street.

“Let me by,” Shay said roughly. “I’m certain there’s easier prey than me wandering the city tonight.”

The vampire seemed surprised, then he began to laugh, low and dark.

“Do you believe yourself a challenge, boy?” he asked mockingly.

Shay bristled at the blatant contempt threaded through the vampire’s smooth voice. He may no longer be a hunter but he still had his skills and weaponry. He could take a lone vampire.

He unsheathed his sword and dagger with twin hisses of metal, adopting a ready stance that he could either attack or defend from.

The vampire made a curious noise. “I didn’t realise you were a hunter,” he said thoughtfully. “What are you doing so far from home? And all alone at that.”

Annoyed that the vampire didn’t seem the least bit threatened, Shay raised his sword menacingly and tried to ignore the flicker of regret at being mistook for a hunter when he could no longer call himself one.

“You don’t know who I am, do you,” the vampire stated flatly, traces of amusement still lingering in his voice.

“I don’t care who you are,” Shay snapped. “Let me past or I’ll take your head off.”

The vampire laughed again, and suddenly he was right in front of Shay, the ex-hunter’s blade the only obstacle separating them.

“My name is Haytham Kenway,” the vampire introduced himself. “As a hunter, perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Shay’s blood turned to ice the moment he heard the infamous name. Haytham Kenway, a very old and powerful vampire, and leader of the coven in the colonies.

It seemed he had underestimated his opponent.

He sheathed his weapons again - they’d do no good against a vampire of this stature – and instead offered his hand. “Shay Cormac,” he said, with more bravado than he felt. “And I’m not a hunter anymore.”

To his surprise, Haytham actually took his hand and shook it. “Not a hunter?” he asked curiously. “Did you lose the taste for it perhaps?”

Shay let his hand fall back to his side and tried to calm his racing heartbeat. Haytham could attack at any second and there was little he could do about it. “You could say that,” he said evasively.

Haytham probably would have pressed further, but was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Not a day out of the Brotherhood and already consorting with this _filth_ ,” a voice Shay knew all too well emerged from the darkness, filled with contempt.

“Kesegowaase,” Shay said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you,” Kesegowaase said as though it were obvious. “A better question is what are _you_ doing?” He pointed with his tomahawk. “Have you been Kenway’s spy all along, or is this only a recent development?”

“Now wait just a minute-” Shay began, stung, but Kesegowaase wasn’t finished.

“No wonder you didn’t kill that weak one last week,” he said, voice thick with disgust. “Do you let them drink from you as well?”

Haytham hadn’t said a word throughout the exchange, and seemed to be enjoying the drama unfolding before him.

“I’m not a spy!” Shay snarled. “I didn’t kill that vampire because he was unable to defend himself!”

“They are mindless beasts, Cormac,” Kesegowaase retorted. “They need to be put down. Now either help me in killing this one, or stand aside.”

Fury rose in Shay’s veins. He and Kesegowaase had never truly seen eye-to-eye when he’d been part of the Hunter Brotherhood, though he’d always tried to stay civil for the sake of getting the job done. He’d received nothing but contempt in return from his fellow hunter however.

Steeling his heart, Shay drew his sword. “You should never have come here, Kesegowaase,” he said angrily. “ _Leave_.”

All his resentment that had built up over the years of his being a hunter alongside the Native man bubbled to the surface and threatened to boil over, leaving Shay to wonder who his true enemy was.

“I will say it one last time,” Kesegowaase growled, growing frustrated now. “Stand aside, or I will be forced to cut you down as a vampire sympathiser.”

Shay did not move other than to adjust his grip on his sword. “No.”

Kesegowaase bared his teeth in a feral snarl as he charged at Shay with his tomahawk raised.

The narrow alleyway gave Shay little room to manoeuvre so there wasn’t much he could do but defend himself if he didn’t want to be chopped to pieces.

His blade caught Kesegowaase’s weapon on the downward swing, jaw clenching at the force of impact.

Disengaging, Kesegowaase came at him again with a chop that would have cleaved his skull in two had it connected. The hunter’s face was contorted with hatred and bloodlust, and Shay knew he had better end this quickly if he wanted to escape unscathed.

He began his own assault, attempting to drive the Native man back against a wall in order to limit his movements.

Kesegowaase realised his intention immediately and swung his tomahawk in a wide horizontal arc, forcing Shay to take a step back.

Shay felt his back hit the cold brick of the wall behind him, and was distracted momentarily as he realised _he_ was the one who had been cornered.

Unfortunately for Shay that split-second of vulnerability was all Kesegowaase needed to plant his tomahawk squarely into the flesh of his left shoulder, biting deep into his skin before the hunter drew it back, deepening the wound as the shaft was dragged torturously past his collarbone, scraping muscle and bone as it went.

Shay gasped at the sudden pain, the thick scent of blood cloying in the air as he slumped against the wall, his left hand no longer able to support the weight of his dagger. It fell to the ground with a metallic clang.

Kesegowaase’s eyes were wide with triumph and bloodlust, his teeth bared in a mad grin.

Shay did his best to defend himself with the sword still gripped tightly in his right hand, but the pain in his shoulder was distracting, and Kesegowaase was swift and vicious. Before long the hunter had disarmed him of his remaining blade and slammed his head against the wall with a dizzying _crack_.

Shay fell to his knees, stunned and half-blind, already weak from the loss of blood from his shoulder.

Kesegowaase laughed derisively at him, leaving him there in the dirt as he turned to face the vampire.

Through Shay’s blurry vision, he thought Haytham looked bemused.

“Am I next?” he asked curiously.

“Shut up,” Kesegowaase snarled, his breathing heavy as he advanced on the vampire. Without warning he darted forward with a war cry, tomahawk raised.

But Haytham was no longer there, causing the silver-imbued blade to scrape horribly against the brick.

Whipping around, Kesegowaase’s sharp eyes sought his opponent and found him leaning nonchalantly against the wall a little further down the alleyway.

“Coward!” the Native hunter barked. “Stand and face me.”

Unbeknownst to him, Shay had slowly and painfully managed to pull himself back to his feet, head still pounding dizzyingly. In one hand he wielded his dagger.

Leaning heavily against the wall behind him, he calculated the distance between him and Kesegowaase. He would only have one chance at this.

Lurching away from the wall he used his forward momentum to stagger towards the hunter.

Kesegowaase sensed him a second too late, and had only just begun to turn when a sharp blade had pierced him through his back and straight into his heart.

He fell with a wordless cry.

Exhausted from his efforts, Shay sank to his knees, vision hazy.

He heard rather than saw Haytham approach, and breathed out slowly. “I’d appreciate it if you killed me quickly,” he muttered.

He heard quiet laughter, and then everything went black.

 

When Shay came to, he was certain he must be dead.

Except... was death meant to be this painful?

His throat felt all raw and scratchy, his shoulder still throbbed unpleasantly, and the rest of him felt terrifyingly weak.

It took several moments of concentrated willpower before he was able to even open his eyes.

The first thing he noticed as his gaze refocused was that Haytham was seated in a chair next to him, looking surprisingly non-threatening.

“Where am I?” Shay asked, and winced as his voice came out as a croak.

“My home,” Haytham answered simply, and it was then that Shay realised he was lying on a bed.

“What? But why? Why aren’t I dead?” Shay demanded, trying feebly to sit up.

“Shh,” Haytham soothed him, gently pushing him back down. “You’re safe here. However you _will_ die if we don’t do something soon.”

“Like what?”

“The only reason you are still breathing at this moment is because I supplemented some of the blood you had lost with some of my own,” Haytham explained. “I needed you to be conscious so you could make an informed decision.”

“Your blood is in me?” Shay asked curiously. At another time he might have been horrified, but he felt oddly light-headed and the thought did not trouble him overmuch.

“As I said,” Haytham confirmed patiently. “But it is not enough to save you. You are dying.”

Shay pondered this. “What was it you said about a decision?”

“I can save you, if you wish,” Haytham replied slowly. “I can turn you.”

Shay’s eyes widened. Become a vampire himself? Become the creature he had been training to kill for so many years? Such a decision would be an ultimate betrayal.

“Why would you offer such a thing?” he asked, not understanding. “Why save me?”

Haytham cocked his head to the side, examining him. “You are not without talent,” he said finally. “I could use you.”

Shay exhaled. “Great. Brilliant,” he said sardonically. “You would have me trade death for eternal slavery.” He knew well that vampires sometimes kept thralls; humans bound to them with chains of blood and loyalty.

“It is not my intention to enslave you,” Haytham replied, brow creasing slightly. “But have it your way.” He stood in one fluid movement, looking as if to leave.

“Wait,” Shay sighed, defeated. He felt what strength had been granted to him by Haytham’s blood beginning to ebb. “Do it.”

Haytham smiled slightly. “Good choice.” He leaned in, and the last thing Shay felt was the sharp bite of fangs against his throat before everything turned to darkness.

 

He was awakened by thirst.

It was a choking, searing _need_ that rasped in his throat, his nerves set alight with pure hunger.

He opened his eyes, and took a breath of air he no longer needed.

Night’s blackness had descended on the property Haytham had called his home, yet Shay could see as surely as a cat.

He wondered where Haytham was, and felt a sudden surge of unease as he realised he didn’t know.  He cursed under his breath. “I thought he wasn’t making me a thrall,” he muttered.

“I didn’t,” Haytham said, entering silently. “However a new vampire is always somewhat... dependent,” he continued wryly.  

Shay scowled at the thought, but inwardly couldn’t help being rather relieved to see his sire.

“Come with me,” Haytham ordered, “you’re no longer dying, but you will if you do not feed, and quickly.”

 _Feed_? Shay’s mind rebelled at the thought, but the burning hunger in his blood was stronger. He stood and followed Haytham out of the room, where he was guided down a flight of stairs.

“It is customary for a vampire to provide their fledgling with their first meal,” Haytham explained as they walked. He glanced at Shay, his eyes gleaming in the dark. “Drain your prey dry. You will need your strength.”

Shay couldn’t resist that hypnotic stare. He nodded, so Haytham led him into the sparse basement. A man was kneeling in the centre of the room, bound hand and foot with a blindfold over his eyes.

For a moment Shay wondered who he could be, but the thought left him as quickly as it had come as his newly-heightened senses caught the scent of hot, mortal blood flowing through the man’s veins.

Haytham watched passively from the doorway as Shay stalked closer to the man, grabbing him by his shirtfront and dragging him to his feet.

Shay didn’t pause to think, running on pure instinct as his fangs emerged so he could bury them in the anonymous man’s jugular. Blood spurted, hot and thick as he pierced the flesh of his victim, and he revelled in the sweet taste of it on his tongue.

His mind became a red blur after that, and it was not until the man had nothing left to give that Shay let him fall to the ground, wiping his sleeve across his bloodstained mouth.

There was something dark and dangerous in Haytham’s eyes as Shay looked back at him, though it was gone so quickly Shay thought he might have imagined it. “Well done,” Haytham commended him. “There’s not many who take to vampirism as well as you.”

Despite himself, Shay warmed at the praise. He hadn’t heard a lot of it in his life.

 

There was a certain sense of culture shock that lingered over the first few days of Shay’s new life, but he was also aware of a new world of opportunity opening up to him.

He’d already been strong and fast thanks to his hunter training; now he was almost invincible. He spent many nights seeing the city through new eyes, learning how to blend into the shadows and avoiding the gaze of his prey. It was surprisingly easy; they never saw him coming.

Haytham was often away doing god knows what – he was the lord of all the colonial vampires and he had duties beyond his new fledgling – but he often returned to check on Shay and ensure he was staying out of trouble.

Shay hated to admit it, but he rather missed the older vampire when he was gone. He knew the bond of sire and fledgling was largely responsible for this, but that knowledge did nothing to lessen the feeling.

There was little he could do about this however, so he poured all his energy into becoming more powerful, practising his new abilities every night and keeping himself well-fed and healthy. Somewhere along the line he had started taking the trouble to make sure he was well-dressed and groomed as well, certain Haytham wouldn’t want him looking dirt-stained and scruffy forever. It would reflect badly on him, being his sire.

At last, one night Haytham returned to invite Shay to join his coven. It was a responsibility, he had said, but he was confident Shay would fulfil the role marvellously.

And so Shay was introduced to many of his brothers and sisters from around the colonies. He met soft-spoken George Monro, stern Charles Lee; the surprisingly rambunctious Christopher Gist, to name a few.

He took to Gist particularly well, relieved that vampires were still allowed a sense of humour. Among many of the other vampires, it almost seemed like they didn’t know how to feel joy anymore.

 There was a solemn initiation ceremony in which he swore to respect his sire, to never feed in another vampire’s territory, and never betray any secrets belonging to another vampire, lest they find their way to the ears of the increasingly dangerous hunters.

Having taken all these vows, Shay was given a ring and was welcomed to the coven.

After the ceremony was complete, Haytham took him home again before the sun could rise.

His sire was very handsome, Shay mused silently on the way back, even among the other vampires.

Many vampires were attractive, as few vampires were inclined to sire ugly fledglings, Gist had explained jovially. Additionally, whatever serum it was that flowed in their veins and made them what they were also acted to enhance a vampire’s appearance; after all, it was much easier to attract prey if one was beautiful.

Even so, Haytham was a different kind of breed, Shay decided, sneaking a look at the other vampire.

His aristocratic features and noble bearing set him apart from his brethren, and he fairly exuded power from where he stood on a rooftop, surveying the city below them.

“Something the matter, Shay?” Haytham asked, glancing at him.

Shay realised he had been staring and looked away. “No,” he said quietly.

He knew fledglings tended to feel very close to their sires, but were they supposed to be _attracted_ to them?

“Very well,” Haytham sounded amused. “Let’s hurry home.”

Shay was getting ready to sleep through the day when Haytham’s voice called him into the master bedroom where he slept.

Slipping through the door, Shay found his sire sitting on his bed with two wrapped packages across his lap, one long and one short.

“Sit here,” Haytham ordered, patting the bed next to him. “These are for you,” he said, passing the packages to Shay so he could unwrap them. “Typically we don’t need weapons to kill our prey, but there’s no harm in having an extra advantage.”

Inside the packages were two beautifully crafted blades, a sword and a dagger. They were very similar to the ones he had once wielded as a vampire hunter, albeit much higher quality.

“Thank you,” he breathed, admiring the sheen of the metal and the fine balance of the weapons.

“The ‘Brotherhood’ are making a nuisance of themselves in Boston,” Haytham explained, derisive tone implying what he thought of the hunters’ name for themselves. “It’s time we stamped them out once and for all. You already have fangs; let these be your claws.”

Carefully sheathing the blades once more, Shay put them safely aside so he could shift closer and boldly kiss his sire in thanks.

Haytham did not respond but nor did he push him away, so Shay pressed closer, pouring all his gratitude into the one kiss, not only for the weapons but for saving his life and turning him in the first place.

Finally Haytham surged into the kiss with a growl, one of his fangs nicking Shay’s lip and making him bleed, as though to remind him of his place. Gone was Haytham’s mild-mannered façade, replaced with a predatory ardour that reminded Shay of just how dangerous the older vampire really was.

Haytham seemed to enjoy the taste of his blood, his tongue swiping his stained lip clean before plunging into his mouth again and letting Shay taste himself.

Pulling away again, he regarded Shay with his dark fathomless gaze for a moment, as though considering what to do to him.

“On the bed,” he ordered, words cracking like a whip. Shay was only too happy to obey, lying flat on his back and watching as Haytham came and hovered above him.

“You obey me so very well, Shay,” he said, tone almost warm. “It’s one of my favourite things about you.” He lowered himself to kiss Shay again, rough and dominating. Neither of them needed to breathe so they could have kissed all day if they’d wished.

However Shay could see from the familiar gleam in Haytham’s eyes that he had other plans.

His mouth descended down his jaw to his throat, and though Shay braced himself for it, he couldn’t stopper a faint cry at the sudden pained pleasure of Haytham’s fangs penetrating his flesh.

Haytham did not take much from him (Shay would have let him drink much more) but enough that Shay felt the euphoric effect of a vampire’s bite. He moaned, tilting his head back to bare more of his throat, but Haytham just chuckled darkly and pressed a kiss to the wound.

“Do you want me to take you, Shay?” he murmured against his skin.

“Nothing would please me more,” Shay responded softly, pupils dilated. He wanted to move, to touch, but Haytham had not given him permission, so he stayed still.

“Then I shall.”

And he did, moving within him with such long leisurely thrusts that Shay was soon gasping in pleasure.

When he came, he bit down on Shay’s neck once more, letting the blood drip in dark rivulets down his throat as Shay cried out in ecstasy.

It was not until they were both sated that Haytham closed the bite, sealing the puncture with a lazy swipe of his tongue.

“Should I go?” Shay asked, wondering if Haytham preferred to sleep alone.

Haytham’s lax grip on his wrist tightened. “Stay,” he said, drawing his fledgling into his arms.

Shay stayed.

They slept like that, waking tangled up in each other as the moon rose in the sky.

 

* * *

 

Extra:

Shay traced one of Haytham’s fangs with a careful finger, admiring its sharpness and marvelling that they had made him what he was. Feeling daring, he pressed the pad of his finger against the tip, letting it pierce him and watching the blood well.

Haytham had been holding himself patiently still for Shay’s inspection, but he couldn’t resist the scent of his blood. His hand closed around Shay’s wrist, holding him still so he could slowly drag his tongue across the digit, filthy and provocative.

Shay smirked. “I never realised you were so good with your tongue,” he commented playfully.

Haytham’s answering smile was dangerous. “Oh, you have no idea...”

**Author's Note:**

> I might do a sequel but idk, I'd have to come up with some ideas first
> 
> I just really like vampires


End file.
